


Reiss Coffee

by Confusedgoth



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coffee Shops, F/F, Fluff, Lesbian Sex, No Lesbians Die, Not Beta Read, Reincarnation if you squint, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:20:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29459673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Confusedgoth/pseuds/Confusedgoth
Summary: Ymir hates mornings. But maybe, just maybe, a certain barista named Historia gives her a reason to keep going.
Relationships: Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss/Ymir, Reiner Braun/Bertolt Hoover
Comments: 16
Kudos: 109





	1. Good Morning!

**Author's Note:**

> happy fem slash feb! comments keep me going!

Ymir hates mornings.

She’s always been more of a night owl, inclined to stay up to the wee hours fucking around on Youtube or reorganizing her cupboard or reading the newest best seller- anything she could get her hands on that kept her from sleep. 

Sleep brought a lot of nightmares full of nothing but violence. Weird, gangly creatures that threatened to eat her. Waking with the feeling of losing something, someone, but without the proof she had lost anything, just the gnawing, terrible feeling of a hole in her chest, where she images her heart is. 

She always woke in a cold sweat .

So it is much to Ymir’s annoyance, when, every day Monday through fucking Friday, she is woken at 6:30 am by the blaring alarm of her phone. And 6:30 is fucking pushing it, thanks. She fucking hated her job, but that went without saying. She let Reiner and Bertholdt convince her, tipsy after a wine night at their place fresh out of grad school, that somehow she would fit in perfectly! At Trost Industries, be the best saleswomen they’d ever seen! 

She could strangle them.

So Ymir drags herself away from her down comforter, from her fluffy pillows and from her blackout curtain, and forces herself into the shower, which never quite wakes her up the way she wishes she would. Scrubbing, absentmindedly, she reminds her that this shower fits two thanks!, the leasing agent has been very firm on that, with a sickly sweet grin that implied Ymir must be defective to be single at 35 of all ages. And Ymir had been Very Firm that she was the only name on the lease and happy about it. 

After her shower and shoving on whatever blazer passes the sniff test first, Ymir makes coffee at the fancy fucking Nspresso Bertholdt got her for Christmas a couple years ago. ("Seriously Ymir!"" He had promised, "It'll change your life!") Caffeine is the ONLY way she’ll make it through the next twelve hours without snapping the neck of that perky fucking intern that works in the cubicle directly outside her office. 

Clicking the pod into the dispenser, Ymir waits for the satisfying sound of caffeine flooding her cup as she scrolls her Twitter feed . 

After a second or two, Ymir realizes nothing is pouring in her cup, let alone coffee. She reaches out, smacks the thing one, two times before she comes to the futile realization that the damn thing is fucking broken, fucking Bertholdt! 

Checking her phone, seeing its fucking _seven! thirty!_ And she was still dragging ass at her apartment, Ymir grabbed her bag and rushed out the door.

_Maybe_ , She thought wildly, _I can make it to Starbucks before the morning meeting?_

Her only alternative was the terrible coffee that perky little intern- Aaron? Erin? Eren? Makes every morning. It always tasted like ass and only served to make Ymir feel worse when she came crashing down from her caffeine high. It never helped that Aaron/Erin/Eren’s optimism left Ymir feeling like an old miser. 

Barreling past her doorman and on to the street, hailing a cab to Midtown, Ymit calculated in her head. As much as she hated her job, she was good at. A VP at this point, Ymir’s blunt attitude led to her ascending the company ranks easily. It was just a fucking job, and anyone who thought Trost cared about them was a fucking idiot, in Ymir’s opinion. She was there to get in, get her money, and get the fuck out.

Skittering out of her cab at 7th, Ymir hit the street at a near dead sprint. She didn’t have long before she was supposed to present, in Ymir’s opinion, some bullshit account to her higher ups, but its not like she decided the meetings. If she did, they’d be at fucking 3 pm. A Starbucks sign beckoned a block down, and Ymir felt her self speed up, dodging moms with strollers and tourists with bulky camera and large broods as she shot towards her goal. To her utter fucking dismay, and contributing to the theory that the universe was working against her, the Starbcuks was _Closed for Renovations! We are Committed to Our Customers!_ The cheery mascot on their logo looked at her mockingly. 

Ymir contemplated her course of action, from aggravated assault on the next fucking tourist that jostled her (seriously, HOW hard is it to say excuse me?) to just not showing up to work _ever again_ when something caught her eye.

On the side street, a dangling sign hanging off the side of the building. _Reiss Coffee_ , it read. It looked neglected, like some hipster place Ymir and Bertholdt and Reiner would have hit after their clubbing days a decade ago, high off coke and Molly and god knows what the fuck else

Pushing in, Ymir found herself greeted by the most heavenly scent-pastries and coffee and something Ymir could barely put her finger on. Something like home. 

“Hello! Welcome to Reiss Coffee, How can I assist you?” 

Ymir’s gaze is forced up, up, up to something she is not quite prepared for. 

Petite and blonde, the barista stands at the counter with the most joyful smile Ymir has ever seen at 8 am in the morning, hair tucked under her Reiss Coffee cap, side bangs loosely escaping out the brim. Her face shone, big blue eyes meeting Ymir’s, a hint of something Ymir couldn’t quite place. Familiarity? 

She was, perhaps, the most beautiful women Ymir had ever seen. 

Naturally, Ymir was very mature and distinguished as she spoke to maybe the love of her life.

“Uh...what, uh” Ymir licks her lips and looks around. A small bar, three little high top tables and a couple booths, the entirety of the space probably fit inside her living room. The cramped floor plan was not helped by the artwork that could only be described as chaotic. Giant art prints of famous works like Klimt’s kiss directly next to an artsy (terrible) picture of an old fashion elevator grate. The walls color themselves just as chaotic, a magenta near the bathrooms, a bright green behind the bar, a yellow on the wall closest to Ymir, who is still struggling to process everything that was happening. 

“What uh,” Ymir makes dead eye contact again with the blonde (huge mistake)  
“What uh, do you recommend?”

It was the right decision, Ymir decided. The blue eyes lit up, sparkled even. 

“Oh!” This angel starts, “I really like the soy latte! Uh, I make it really good!” 

Was Ymir truly loosing it, or was this girl blushing? Pushing her luck, Ymir smirked and leaned her elbow on the counter, eye to eye. 

“Oh yeah? That good? Uh,” She chanced a glance down, towards the name tag on the girl’s breast. 

“Christa? You can make my drink like no one else?” She felt the way the words dripped off her tongue, Jesus H, she felt like a horny fucking top. 

“Historia”

“Huh?” Ymir blinked.

“Uh, my real name. It’s Historia”. If Ymir didn’t know any better, she’d say that a blush had firmly planted itself on Historia’s cheeks. 

“Well, Historia. Can I have one soy latte? Medium? I have it on good authority I’ll like it”

Ymir could have _kicked her self_ Historia blushed so hard, nodding a yes at her before she skittered away towards the machine. She hadn’t felt like this in a decade at least. For the last 10 years she’d been the aging dyke in corner, looked over consistently, to the point when she stopped accepting Bertholdt and Reiner’s invites to the bars.

But Historia?

Small and blonde and beautiful, something stirred.

“Ymir?”

Historia’s voice rang out, confident enough, eye’s boring in to Ymir’s back.

“Have a nice day.” Historia chirped, dashing towards the back after she handed Ymir her drink.

Smirking, Ymir shrugged and headed out of the store when something caught her eye, smudged on her cup.

_Hey! Call me if u want! :3 (xxx) xxx-xxxx_

Ymir decided maybe. Maybe. Mornings weren’t so bad after all.


	2. Good Afternoon!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the slightest of slow burn over here

Ymir was fucked. 

It was well past lunch time, and her soy latte sat on her desk, long since cooled. Ymir’s fingers hovered over her the contact page of her phone, typing in **H i s t o r i a** carefully and then inputting her number, double, triple, quadruple checking she had the number right. 

Staring at the contact, Ymir felt her stomach swoop. 

What now? She thought. Does she call? The note said call. But Historia seems younger, and younger people text, right? What does she text? Hey? Too casual probably. Hello? Too formal. Does she ask her to dinner? A movie? To her apartment? Would they hook up? God, what if they hooked up-

“Fuck!” Ymir slammed her hand down on her desk and sunk down in her chair in frustration. She was too old for this. Back when she was dating, a decade ago now, it was so much easier. She’d saunter into a bar, buy a girl a couple of drinks, take her back to her place, easy. If it went somewhere, it went somewhere. It had been ages since her last relationship, with a fiery girl named Hitch, which in hindsight had been such a disaster Ymir had to start going to a different bar. Hitch and Ymir clashed constantly, over the stupidest little things, like not washing the dishes properly (“Cutting boards don’t go in the dishwasher Ymir!”) or the laundry (‘I don’t fold my socks like this Ymir!”). It would have been completely maddening if the fights hadn’t always led to incredible hate sex, followed by incredible make up sex, Pavloving both of them towards a level of aggression that was unhealthy. It didn’t come as a surprise to Ymir when it ended. If Facebook was correct, Hitch was still dating some tall guy Ymir remembered from the bar- Marlo? He was always so quiet and calm, reserved even. 

Is that what Ymir needed? Some one quieter, someone calmer? Was Historia like that? Would Historia mellow her out, keep her head level? Would Historia-

Fuck

She was getting ahead of herself. 

Back to task at hand (which did not include doing any of her actual work or answering that email that Erwin had labeled Urgent!!) Ymir does the one thing she really, really didn’t want to have to do. 

She calls Bertholdt. 

“Ymir!” He all but screams when he finally picks up the phone. “I’ve missed you! Holding down the office without me?” Reiner and Bertholdt had just adopted a little boy, and they both were on leave as they adjusted. 

“Yeah, something like that,” She said, glancing towards the Urgent! Email blinking at her on screen. “Uh, any way Bertie, I need,” she lowered her voice, _“Advice”_. 

There was dead silence on the other line for so long Ymir thought maybe they’d been disconnected. 

“Bertie?” 

“I’m here Ymir, I’m just processing this. You realize we’ve been friends for like, 15 years and you’ve never asked for advice? Or help, or anything?”

“Yeah well-”

“So what is it, then? That could cause the illustrious Ymir to ask a lowly peasant for advice-”

“A girl, it’s uh, a girl. I met this girl in this shitty coffee shop and she gave me her number and I don’t know what to do” 

Saying it out-loud, in that rush of breath, made her feel a little stupid. Maybe sensing that, Bertholdt’s voice took a gentler tone. 

“Well, you could just call her?”

“Yeah but she’s like, fuck, she’s like young and pretty, Bertie. And what if she doesn’t pick up?”

“Then she’ll call you back Ymir. She didn’t give you her number expecting you _not_ to call” Exasperation was beginning to creep into Bertholdt’s voice. 

“But-”

“And another thing,” Bertholdt continued, “Is that you deserve to be happy and you deserve to love and the whole reason you haven’t is because you’re scared to put yourself out there.”

“It’s just...been a while Bertie. And I don’t want to mess this one up.”

“You won’t, Ymir. Now stop stalling and call that girl, please?” 

Ymir sighed and rubbed at her temples. 

“I will. Thanks, Bertie.” 

Clicking her phone off, Ymir let her gaze drift to the window, gazing at the city stretching out in front of her. She was scared to put herself out there, that was a fair enough hit on Bertholdt's part. She just hadn’t felt confident in herself...she didn’t know how long. Was it seeing Hitch move on so quick all those years ago? Or maybe that she hadn’t felt desirable in a while. Somewhere along the line her personality went out of style, somewhere along the line she became old. But maybe Bertholdt was right about that other thing. That “Ymir deserves happiness and love” thing. 

Running her hands through her hair, Ymir sucks in a deep breath and picks up her phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter we get some historia pov oooooh


	3. Good Evening!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woohoo! thanks for all the support! I hope everyone is continuing to enjoy :)

Historia didn’t really mind working at a coffee shop, all things considered. It wasn’t exactly her dream of dreams, but it was reliable. It was also unexpected, as unexpected as all the events of the last year of Historia’s life. 

Learning you’re the bastard child of a very wealthy man tends to turn one’s life upside down. 

Historia had had a strange childhood, raised by her grandparents with little knowledge of her parents, just the heartbreaking realization that she was _unwanted_. Despite that, she grew up well, educated and loved by what family she did have. They weren’t exactly well off- she doesn’t think her grandfather will ever retire- but Historia didn’t mind. She liked her lot in life. She’d even gone to college for a year, before the funds started to run dry and she started to panic, dropping out and getting odd jobs to try and support herself. 

That was when the Revelation happened.

She’d come home from her waitressing shift one night to find a man she’d never seen before seated on her grandparent’s love seat, nestled next to her grandmother, who’s glare could only be called disapproving. 

He was a stout man, dark hair and a pudgy face that lit up when Historia walked in the room.

“Historia!” He shot up from his seat and started towards her, then thought about it again and stood rooted in place, hands awkwardly brushing against his pants. 

“Uh, who?” She looks to her grandmother, who refuses to meet her gaze. 

“Oh this is,” The man flaps his hands uncomfortably and Historia’s grandmother shoots him a vicious glare. 

“Well the thing is,” He starts again. “Your _real_ name, your, uh, birth name, so to say is Historia. Historia Reiss.” 

“Uh, no. My name is Christa. Christa Lenz” She laughed uncomfortably “My name has always been Christa. Right, Nonna?” She gestures towards her grandmother wildly. 

“...He’s right.” Her grandmother said, gaze still down, and Historia almost fell on the floor, feeling her knees weaken, reaching out to support herself against the wall. 

Her grandmother, finally meeting her eyes, sighs. 

“He’s your father, Christa” 

That really _did_ send Historia to the floor, knees buckling and ears ringing. The man- her father? Reached out toward her, but second guessed himself again, locking his arms firmly by his side.

The room sat still for a minute, two, until Historia looked up and said, “Why now?” 

“Excuse me?” The man started, but Historia cut him off. 

“Why now? Why do you have to come now, where were you when I was little, where were you when Pops was working until 3 am to afford food to feed me? Where were you when I had to drop out of college because I drained Nonna and Pops retirement fund?” Her voice rose to a fever pitch and she spoke and she felt angry tears threatening to tip over her eye lashes and down her face. 

“His- Christa. Christa, look at me” The man finally moved, crouching down in front of her, eye level. Stubbornly, Historia fixed her gaze heatedly on his left shoulder. 

He sighed, rubbing one of his hands over his face as he started again.

“Christa, I am so sorry. And I know nothing I do or say can ever fix what I did, but, if you let me, I want to make this as right as I can. I-” He stopped for a second, and Historia risked a glance up, watching as a tear slid down his cheek. “I recently lost my eldest daughter and it made me realize how dear my children are. _All_ of my children.”  
They sat in silence for a moment, before Historia spoke.

“Would I have liked her?”

“Who?”

“Your daughter. The one you lost”

“Oh,” Historia sees a flash of _something_ across his face before he continues. “Uh- yes. If what your Nonna has told me is correct you sound quite similar. Both headstrong and kind hearted. Her hair was much darker, though” 

He chanced a smile, and Historia chewed her at her lip. 

“What’s your name? I should know-” She swallows hard, “I should know my father’s name”. 

“Rod. Rod Reiss.” Historia’s eyes widened. She hadn’t put it together when he first said her name but now she recognized it, recognized the expensive suit he wore, recognized the _recently deceased daughter_ that was splashed all over the front of the Post. 

Anger shot through her briefly, and Rod recognized this immediately, but before either of them could speak her grandmother spoke up from her perch on the love seat. 

“I wouldn’t take his money Christa. He paid the rent some months when we wouldn’t have otherwise made it, but I never wanted _his_ money” Her words dripped venom, making even Historia flinch. 

“Look, His-” A glare. “Christa. I want to help you. I want to help you graduate college, I want you to never want for anything, again. Let me make this right to you”

Historia thought for a beat. 

‘I don’t want you to just...throw money at me. That feels wrong. Dirty” He nods a little as she continues. “I want to earn it.” 

His face lit up a little at that. “Stubborn like your sister too” He chuckles to himself. ‘Your sister has, _had_ , this little coffee shop I bought her years ago. She was always happiest there. Without her there…” He swallows “It needs a new manager. Work there and I’ll pay you honestly and help you with tuition. Fair?”

Historia glanced back to her grandmother, who gave her a short nod. 

“Fair” Historia said

And so, this is how Historia ends up at Reiss Coffee, waking up at the crack of dawn, restocking and organizing the store room, scrubbing the windows until they shine. She had learned that her sister- Frieda- must have been pretty eccentric judging by the hodge-podge of decor that decorated the store. It felt wrong to change it, even if the Polaroids on the wall of Frieda and Rod and the rest of her siblings sent the occasional stab through Historia’s heart, gut rolling. Frieda and Rod at the beach, Frieda and Rod on horseback, Frieda and Rod at her prom, graduation. 

Historia was working on not being bitter. 

There were a lot of good things this weird new Revelation had brought her. She back in college, and sharing an apartment with her best friends, working at a job that was rewarding (in a weird, feeling slightly haunted by the death of your unknown sister way) all for the low price of two dinners with Rod a month, on Historia’s schedule, not his. 

Which takes her to today. She can’t believe she gave that woman her name, her _real, actual_ name. She hadn’t even told Mikasa and Armin yet, just that her dad was back in her life and had some disposable income. She didn’t know what she would say if she did. 

_Hey guys! You know Rod Reiss of Titan Industries? That’s my absentee father! Yeah, the billionaire! And you know the shop I work at? It’s my dead sisters! Yeah, the one who died in that accident! Yeah, yeah, the one with all those followers on Insta. I know. Yeah. Just showed up out of the blue. Anyway, I’m technically set for life, how’s your share of the rent going?”_

But this...woman just waltzes into her shop at 7:45 in the morning and catches her, forces her guard down. There was just something so familiar, like she knew her already, felt _safe_ with her already. Like it would be wrong to tell her to call her anything but Historia. She isn’t really sure what came over her. 

She also can’t believe that she wrote her number on that cup, bold as brass, and expected anything good to come from it. It’s been well over 9 hours now with no call, which Historia takes as the rejection she feels it is. That cup was probably long disposed of in some stuffy office trash can. It was probably-

 _Buzz! Buzz!_

Historia nearly topples over, clutching the counter she was wiping for support. That couldn’t be? 

Swallowing hard, Historia picked up the phone. 

“Is this Historia?’

“Yes,” She starts “Is this Ymir?”

“Yes. Historia, I hope I’m not being too forward but-”

“You’re not.” She interrupts, not even _caring_ how desperate she seemed. 

A chuckle floated in to her ear from the other end of the line that sent _something_ shivering down Historia’s spine. 

“Good. Well, if it isn’t too short of notice I’d love to take you to dinner tonight. Say, 8 o’clock?” 

“I’d love to” Historia breathes, noticing belatedly how hard she was gripping her phone.

“Excellent. I’ll meet you outside your shop. I’ll see you soon, _Historia_.” 

“See you soon” Historia nearly whimpered out. She’d never been so attracted to how someone said her name. She checked the time, _4:45_ ! and let out a squeak of panic. She had so much to do! She smelled like coffee and her hair was one big mat after a day on her feet.

“Annie,” She called out to her assistant manager. “Can you take over for the rest of the night?” 

Annie nodded and snorted at her expression. “Got yourself a hot date?”

Historia shuddered. 

“You don’t know the half of it” And with that she was off, barreling out the door and towards the subway stop down the street.


	4. Good Night!

Ymir hung up her phone, heart beating at a breakneck pace. Somehow she had managed to be smooth for the duration of the call, but now that it was over she was back to freaking out. A date? Tonight? For dinner? Glances at her watch Ymir realized _shit!_ she only had like three hours to haul ass back to her apartment, look however one looked _presentable_ these days, and make it back across the City to Historia’s shop. 

Running her hands through her hair, Ymir glanced around her desk, at the unopened emails, the scattered papers and the hours old soy latte on the corner. The _Hey!_ scribbled on it in Historia’s curly script. Something about it touched at Ymir’s heart in a way she couldn’t describe. 

With another quick glance towards the blinking _Urgent!_ from Erwin, Ymir grabbed her bag and hustled out the door, past that stupid, perky intern who called out, _Ms. Ymir! Wait!_ , past Erwin’s office (She keeps her head down, a little, as she speeds by), past the bored, freckled receptionist who definitely spends all his time secretly texting his little boyfriend when Erwin isn’t looking. Going down the elevator and emerging from the towering building, Ymir cried out, _Taxi!_ and dove into the first one to slow down.

\-----

“Annie told me you have a hot date. She said it just like that, ‘Hissie’s got a _hot_ date’” 

Historia looked up from her vanity and turned to face Mikasa, who was currently leaning lazily against her doorway. 

“Hm” She mused, dusting eye shadow across her eyes. “I knew there was a drawback to hiring my roommate’s girlfriend, I just hadn’t put quite put my finger on it” 

“Ha ha.” Mikasa said, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes. “So tell me about her. Your _hot_ date”

Historia shot her a playful glare and reached for her straightening iron, running it through her hair. 

“I don’t know ‘Kasa. Well she’s a little older, and she’s got brown hair and she’s taller than me-” 

“Everyone is taller than you” Mikasa cut across. 

“-and,” Historia plowed on, “When she walked in, something just felt...I don’t know. Right. Like I already had met her before or something. You know what I mean?”

“No.” Mikasa said simply. “But it doesn’t surprise me. You’ve always been _such_ a hopeless romantic” 

“Hey,” Historia said, rising from her vanity and walking over to her closet. “Don’t say it like that’s a bad thing.”

“It’s not” Mikasa said, tossing herself on Historia’s bed and rolling on to her stomach. “I just worry about you rushing into things. I don’t want you to get hurt. Remember what happened with Mina?”

Historia would rather _not_ remember what happened with Mina, the way she waited around her phone for hours after their first date for Mina to text or call, the way her heart broke when she never did. Historia wasn’t quite sure what caused her to fall so hard and so fast, but with Ymir, something felt different. At least, Historia hoped.

“Anyway,” Historia said pointedly, changing the subject, “What should I wear?” She reached out and grabbed a lacy black top, rubbing the material against her fingers. “Maybe this, with jeans?” 

“Oh my god,” Mikasa straightened up “You can’t wear _jeans_ on a first date with a sexy older woman who’s probably like, rolling in it. I thought you were supposed to be the fashionable roommate.” 

Historia checked her watch (6:37) and groaned out in frustration. 

“Help me then, ‘Kasa, please.” 

Mikasa shrugged and stood up, walking over to Historia. “Your funeral then”

\-----

Ymir bounced her weight for foot to foot as she checked her watch. 7:45. She was early, would that make her seem desperate? She glanced up at the hanging _Reiss Coffee_ , blowing softly in the wind and let out a frustrated sigh. She wondered if she should go wait around the block and come back in ten minutes-

“Ymir?” 

Ymir whirled around and felt her heart jump in her throat. Historia stood before her, in a white sun dress with golden embroidery, wedged heels accented her legs. Her bright blue eyes shone in the lights of the street lamp and Ymir felt her face flush.

“Uh, these,” She shoved her arm forwards, a bouquet of flowers in her hand, “These are for you”

“Oh!” Historia took them, and brought them to her face, inhaling their scent. She met Ymir’s gaze and giggled, slightly. “No one’s ever bought me flowers before”

Trying to hold herself together, Ymir smiled down at her. 

“Well, I feel lucky to have been the first.” She stuck her arm for Historia to take, delighting in the way Historia’s cheeks begin to darken. “Now, shall we?” 

\------

Dinner was at a posh restaurant that Ymir’s friend Bertholdt had been raving about, one of those places that got three stars in the Time’s reviews (not that Historia would have been able to read it. She hit paywall like, the third day of every month)

The lighting was dim, the tables covered in white linen with candles flickering in the middle. 

Historia had only ever been to places so nice a couple of times, usually when Rod and her met up for their monthly dinners. 

She felt almost like a teenager again, the way she kept blushing and giggling. It wasn’t her fault though! Ymir had gotten her flowers, let her hold her arm all the way to the restaurant like in an old timey movie, and had even pulled her chair out for her before she could sit down. 

“So,” Ymir started once they were seated, menus in lap. “I guess I should ask if you’re above legal drinking age before I order wine for the table, huh?” 

“Yeah,” Historia giggled, “I’m 22. My birthday’s in a couple of months anyway. What about you?” 

“I just turned 35. That won’t be a problem, will it?” 

Historia tried to hide her glee. She had maybe always had a thing for older women, something she had never really admitted to anyone out loud, especially not Mikasa, _god_ the teasing would never end. 

“Uh, no! Not at all.” 

Ymir’s gaze was smouldering, touching something deep within Historia. 

“Excellent.”

\------

Ymir couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much _fun_.

They’d ordered wine and appetizers, and Ymir delighted in the high pitch and carefree way Historia giggled after a couple of glasses of the (expensive, although she’s not sure if Historia noticed or cared) Cab she ordered. 

She’d learned that Historia was studying Poly Sci, and maybe wanted to be a politician one day. 

(“I just think I’d be a good leader,” She had said, in between bites of her Ceasar salad. Ymir couldn’t help but agree with her)

She had already memorized the way her nose scrunched up when she talked about something unpleasant, like double shifts and 8 am classes and her _father_. 

That topic had come up during the entree round (Rack of lamb for Ymir, Filet Mignon for Historia) and Ymir was touched that Historia would broach such a topic on the first date. 

“...and that’s how I got the shop too. My sister’s-half sister’s I guess? That’s why there’s all those little pictures of a dark hair girl around the shop, that was Frieda”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Ymir said, sipping her wine. She really hadn’t. She had been so focused on Historia in front of her that pretty much everything else had been background noise. 

“That’s no surprise,” Historia snorts, drawing Ymir out of her thoughts, “I moved most of them towards the back. I don’t like being reminded that I’m some...consolation prize for the loss of his favorite child” 

Ymir thought about that for a second, and about everything else she had learned about Historia over the course of the night. How she was headstrong, with huge ambitions, how she seemed to go after everything she wanted with a steely minded determination. How she could have had a free ride to life but wanted, no demand to work. And how her eyes lit up at the smallest of a mention of a thing that makes her happy. 

“I don’t know Historia.” She says after a minute of thought. “Something tells me you’re no one’s consolation prize. And if you are,” She paused to chew at her lamb. “Then fuck ‘em. You don’t need to compare yourself to anyone, prodigal child or not”

Historia was quiet for a moment, and Ymir thought with a panic that maybe she had fucked this up royally, but then Historia caught her gaze again, and Ymir saw the soft smile on her lips and the tears glistening in her eyes. 

“Thank you,” She said, pawing at her eyes with her napkin. “I have to be honest, I’ve never really...told anyone any of this. It’s nice to talk about it with someone besides myself. And it feels so...right to share it with you. Y’know?” 

“Yeah,” Ymir smiled, “I know”. 

“It just-” Historia pauses for a second, and Ymir can see the cogs in her brain turning, see the way she’s struggling to articulate her point. 

“It just feels like I’ve known you for forever. God! That’s so creepy!” Historia threw her hands over her face and Ymir let out a laugh. 

“Historia, honestly,” She reached out a hand and took one of Historia’s off her face, rubbing her thumb soothingly against the grooves of Historia’s knuckles, “I feel the same. I felt it when I walked in the shop this morning, and I feel it now”

Historia took her other hand off her face and looked at Ymir, her gaze so intense that Ymir didn’t quite know what to make of it. Then, her face broke out into a smile that Ymir swore lit up the entire restaurant. 

And in that moment, Ymir decided she would do whatever it takes, for the rest of her life, to keep that smile on her face. 

\-----

Despite her minor emotional breakdown, Historia truly thought this was the best date of her life. Historia is convinced that the connection they have is so strong they could have gone to a hot dog cart and she’d feel the same way. 

After Ymir paid the check, (Historia fought the urge to check the total), she took Historia by the hand and led her out of the restaurant. They walked for a few minutes along the brightly lit sidewalk, enjoying the way her hand felt in Ymir’s. 

“So,” Ymir started, and Historia sensed hesitation in her voice. “This is,” Pause. Ymir turned so she was facing Historia, holding her hands in her own, and Historia noticed a faint blush on her cheeks.

“This is the part of the date, I think, if memory serves, where I ask if it’s alright to kiss you, Historia.” She placed a hand on Historia’s cheek, tilting it upwards slightly. “If that’s...alright with you?” 

Historia tilted her head a little, placing a gentle kiss to Ymir’s thumb. 

“That’s more than okay with me, Ymir”

And then suddenly, all of her senses were full of _Ymir_ as her lips are on hers. She cards a hand through Ymir’s hair, pulling her closer, deeper, opening her mouth for their tongues to _fuck finally!_ meet. Their tongues clash for dominance, with Ymir eventually winning out. Not that Historia minded. Ymir’s other hand drifts downwards, towards the small of her back, and Historia lets out a soft moan of surprise into Ymir’s mouth. The whole thing is heady and dirty, and Historia pulls back after a minute, maybe two, eyes trained on Ymir’s.

“Your place,” She says, between slightly ragged breaths (god she really was like a teenager), “or mine?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys! hope you enjoyed this chapter, I wanted to get it out before the end of Ymir's bday (hbd baby!), so the smut will be in the next chapter, sorry for that delay! 
> 
> xoxoxoxoxo


	5. Good Morning! (Again)

As soon as the words left Historia’s mouth she wanted to punch herself in the face. There was no way she could bring Ymir back to hers, not when her room is the size of a broom closet, and not when Mikasa and Annie are definitely waiting up for her to pester her about her night. Through the grace of _god_ Ymir just smirked and said, “Mine, I’m sure it’s closer” and Historia let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. 

Ymir tossed her arm and hailed a taxi, her other hand gripping Historia’s tightly and Historia tried not to focus too hard on how good it felt to have their fingers intertwined. 

They all but collapse into the taxi together, giggling behind their hands as they struggle for seatbelts and Historia has to stop and think again, for the fifth time this evening, how _right_ this feels. 

Ymir gives an address to the driver that has Historia’s eyebrows shooting up into her hair line. She knew that block. That block was, for lack of a better term, rich as fuck. Sometimes Mikasa biked for DoorDash and she always talked about that area of the city, the doorman(!), the marble entryways, the parking garages as if any one in the city even needed one for any more of the explicit reason of proving they were rich enough for a car. 

Head reeling, Historia leaned back against her seat, reveling in the way her sweat-soaked thighs stuck to the leather of the car as she tried to catch her breath. 

Of course, Ymir leaned over almost immediately, not even bothering to try and small talk for their poor driver- _Henry?_ Historia squinted at his ID, distracted momentarily at the feeling of Ymir’s warm mouth dragging across her throat. 

She let out a strangled whimper, eyes darting to Henry at the front until Ymir upped it, lapping her tongue along Historia’s pulse points and pulling an honest to God moan out her.

Ymir pulled back with a smirk and Historia wanted to _die_ least of all because she was almost certain Henry was peeking on them every time he hit a red light. 

Finally, finally! They reached Ymir’s building, and with a tug Historia was out the car door, and through the ornate marble entryway (just like Mikasa said), and into the elevator. 

As soon as she crossed the elevator threshold her back was shoved against the elevator wall and Ymir’s body was pressing against hers, licking her neck, running her hands up her sides. 

“Ymir,” She started, “We’re in public”

Ymir nipped at her ear lobe (definitely on purpose to catch her off guard because Historia let out a violent shudder that she hoped Ymir didn’t notice) and said, “All my neighbors are like 80. No need to worry, just be quiet, be a _good girl_ , okay Historia?” 

Historia let out a shudder Ymir definitely noticed.

Suddenly, the elevator dinged and Ymir was tugging her again, this time towards her apartment, her bed! And Historia felt herself heady with arousal and Ymir dragged her into her flat. 

It was ten times bigger than Historia had ever lived before, bigger than the apartment she scraped by with Mikasa and Armin, bigger than Nonna and Pops, bigger than she’d ever let herself dream of living. A huge marble counter top accented the large kitchen, that opened up in to a living room with the most stunning view Historia has ever seen. She could see the whole city open up in front of her from it, the twinkling lights of cars dozens of stories below. 

Of course, as soon as she went through the door, she was slammed back into it, moaning for more as Ymir’s solid thigh wedged its way between her, as Ymir’s solid thigh _held her up_ against the door, mouthing back at the juncture between neck and shoulder.

“Ymir,” She breathed, “Bedroom, please,”

She felt Ymir smirk against her neck.

“Baby, that’s all you had to say” 

And suddenly Historia was being scooped up and carried across the apartment.

\------

Historia let out a strangled moan as Ymir flicked her tongue across her nipple lazily, her hands wandering up and down Historia’s body.

Ymir settled back on her heels after a moment, appraising the sight before her.

Historia laid on the center of her bed, blonde hair fanned out across the pillows. Her bra and dress were discarded somewhere to Ymir’s left, leaving only a tiny pair of panties covering her sex. Her chest heaved and her cheeks were pink and Ymir felt the urge to pinch herself because hours ago she couldn’t believe this girl was interested in her, and now Ymir had her writhing in her bed. 

She leaned forward again and hooked her pointer under the band of Historia’s thong. 

“May I?” 

Historia just nodded frantically, lifting her hips up almost desperately to help and Ymir had to fight the urge to tear them off her body. They kinda looked expensive and she didn’t want to rip them (but at the same time she did. Oh, she did so bad. Maybe she could buy a pair for Historia next time)

She leans forward once more, ghosting, kissing across Historia’s abdomen and headed further down, down, down, until she’s licking softly at her opening. Historia lets out a whimper and arches her back slightly, carding her hand through Ymir’s hair. 

Ymir took this as a sign to go faster, harder, and she all but shoves her tongue in, lapping at the delicious taste dancing across her tongue. She thrusts her tongue in and out, reveling at the little gasps and whimpers she was forcing out of the beautiful blonde.

“Y-Ymir,” Historia moans, breathlessly. “M-more, please more, I need-”

Ymir pulled back and grinned cheekily up at her. 

“Your wish is my command, princess” She kisses the soft, pale skin of Historia’s thighs, making her squirm, and slips her finger inside Historia’s glistening opening. 

“A-ah,” Historia choked out as Ymir sped her ministrations up, angling them ever so slightly as she searched for her spot. She added a second finger and upon that thrust Historia let out a startled gasp and clenched tightly around Ymir’s finger. _Bingo!_

Determined to send Historia over the edge, Ymir dips her head down and licks around Historia’s clit, swiping across it occasionally.

The hands in her hair tightened, and Historia’s hip began to buck back against Ymir’s hand of their own accord, meeting her halfway each time. 

“I-I’m-” Historia is cut off by her own particularly loud moan, and Ymir smirks against her clit, mumbling against it, “C’mon, baby girl,” and Historia came with a shout, body seizing up in ecstasy as she rode it out, the hand in Ymir’s hair tightening painfully hard. 

Ymir lapped lazily at her and fingered her slowly as she came down from her high, eventually pulling her glistening fingers out and examining them. Catching Historia’s lidded eyes, Ymir wiggles her fingers at her cheekily and starts them towards her mouth, but Historia is somehow quicker, somehow faster, a small hand darting out and catching Ymir’s wrist. (Shakily) Historia sits up, and places Ymir’s fingers in her own mouth, sucking them clean.

Ymir, for all her suaveness, gapes at her. This girl was full of surprises.

\--------

Historia sucks once more, and pulls Ymir’s fingers out her mouth, where Ymir’s hand drops limply as Ymir continues to gawk. She couldn’t help but feel smug that she’d shut Ymir up, if not for a second. 

“You know,” She started, trying to be as cool as she could manage. (Truthfully, she was shitting bricks. The furthest she’d ever gone down on some one was that one time her and Mikasa- 

Anyway.)

“It’s awful rude to be so clothed when I’m sitting here in my birthday suit.” Ymir let out a chuckle at that, and shrugged her suit jacket off, tossing it to the side. Historia wondered how she could make even that look hot. 

The button up comes next, with Ymir undoing the buttons so quickly that by the time Historia blinked the button up too was laying in a heap on the floor, with a black bra that Historia hadn’t even noticed on the top of the pile. Now that she was shucking her clothes, Historia could fully appreciate her body. Toned and tan, she was like, the peak of physical perfection. Her arms were muscled and she had abs (!) that Historia wanted to lick desperately. Ymir catches her staring and smirked, prompting a blush in Historia. 

“Hey,” A finger pushes Historia’s chin upwards, so they’re eye to eye. “Don’t get shy on me now baby” The pet name sent a shudder through her and she nodded shakily. 

“I-,” She starts. “I haven’t really, uh, gone down on any one before” She feels the blush start to creep down her face onto her chest. Ymir, instead of looking upset like Historia was dreading, softened, and smiled sweetly at her. 

“Oh, baby,” Ymir cards a finger across Historia’s lips, almost lovingly. “Let me help you,”

\--------

Historia, Ymir decides, is a pretty quick learner. 

Now Ymir is the one on her back, panting against her pillows as Historia’s tongue works its way in and out of her, growing in confidence with every passing second. A finger dances across her clit, and then down, pushing in alongside Historia’s tongue, forcing a shocked shout from Ymir. 

“God, Historia,” She tries to focus, regain her composure a little, but Historia’s finger brushes against her spot, in a way she can swear is teasingly, and Ymir is reduced back to moaning and panting. 

A second finger slides in, and the pace quickens. Ymir can feel how wet she is, dripping against the sheet, (and Historia) and that thought just drives her closer to the edge. 

“C-close,” She chokes out, grabbing fruitlessly at the sheets for purchase.

This incites a vigor within Historia, who fucks her harder, removing her tongue from alongside her fingers and sucking on her clit. Ymir chances a glance down, at the sight of Historia in between her thighs, at the sight of her plump ass high in the air, at the sight of the determination in eyes, the determination to please Ymir. 

Ymir feels herself arch off the bed, and then suddenly she’s coming so hard she nearly whites out.  
As Ymir comes back to herself, she looks at Historia, who was sporting a grin on her face as she- _jesus christ_ as she wipes Ymir’s wetness off her face. 

“So,” She says, smile still broad. “Did I do a good job?”

Ymir chuckles and runs a hand across her face. This girl was going to be the death of her.

\-------

Historia wakes up in a huge fluffy bed, that is decidedly not hers. Looking around for a second, rubbing at her eyes, the night's events flood back, and she smiles softly. Ymir is still sleeping, arms curled around Historia’s waist, head resting peacefully against the nape of her neck. 

Historia snuggles back down, pressing back closer to Ymir and closes her eyes. 

\-------

Ymir wakes sometime later. Historia had shifted, her head now against Ymir’s chest, dozing peacefully. Ymir smiles, and pulls her closer, tighter. Something about her feels so right, like she’s known her forever. She decides in that instant she’ll do anything, everything to keep her happy, to keep her by her side. She realizes how gone she is for Historia as she watches her sleep, but Ymir doesn’t mind.

Last night, with Historia curled against her, was the first time she hadn’t had a nightmare in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you guys so much for reading! I loved being able to write again, and plan on writing more AOT wlw, lemme know if you have any suggestions or things you want to see! I'm thinking maybe a pieck/yelena one next??? Pls comment or inbox me suggestions! I will also probs come back and edit this further at some point.


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